“Who is he?” said Lillyston, breaking in, “your equal, sir, in birth, as he is your superior in intellect, and in every moral quality. Gentlemen,” he continued, “let me warn you not to have the impertinence to talk in this way again.”
“Warn us!” said Bruce, trying to hide under bravado his crestfallen temper; “why, what’ll you do if we choose to continue?”
“Make a few counter-remarks to begin with, Bruce, on parasites and parvenus, tuft-hunting freshmen, and the tenth transmitters of a foolish face,” retorted Lillyston, glowing with honest indignation.
“And turn you out of the butteries by the shoulders,” said a strong undergraduate, who had chanced to be a witness of the scene. “A somewhat boyish proceeding, perhaps, but exactly suited to some capacities.”
Bruce and his friends, seeing that they were beginning to have the worst of it, thought it about time to swagger off, and for the future learnt to confine their remarks to a more exclusive circle.
There had been another silent spectator of the scene in the person of Lord De Vayne. He was a young viscount whose estate bordered on the grounds of Lonstead Abbey, and he had known Julian since both of them were little boys. He had been entirely educated at home with an excellent tutor, who had filled his mind with all wise and generous sentiments; but his widowed mother lived in such complete seclusion that he had rarely entered the society of any of his own age, and was consequently timid and bashful. Meeting sometimes with Julian, he had conceived a warm admiration for his genius and character, and at one time had earnestly wished to join him at Harton. But his mother was so distressed at the proposition that he at once abandoned it, while he eagerly looked forward to the time when he should meet his friend at Saint Werner’s, on the books of which college he had entered his name partly for this very reason. He had not been an undergraduate many days before he called on Julian, who had received him indeed very kindly, but who seemed rather shy of being much in his company for fear of the remarks which he had not yet learnt entirely to disregard. This was a great source of vexation to De Vayne, though the reason of it was partly explained after the remarks which he had just overheard.
“Home,” he whispered, “I wish you’d come into my rooms after hall, I should so much like to have a talk. Do,” he said, as he saw that Julian hesitated, “I assure you I have felt quite lonely here.”
Accordingly, after hall, Julian strolled into Warwick’s Court, and found his way to Lord De Vayne’s rooms.
“I am so glad to see you, Julian, at last. As I have told you,” he said, with a glistening eye, “I have been very lonely. I have never left home before, and have made no friend here as yet;” and he heaved a deep sigh.
Julian felt his heart full of friendliness for the gentle boy whose total inexperience made him seem younger than he really was. He glanced round the rooms; they were richly furnished, but full of memorials of home, that gave them a melancholy aspect. Over the fireplace was a water-colour likeness of his lady-mother in her widow’s weeds, and on the opposite side of the room another picture of a beautiful young child—De Vayne’s only brother, who had died in infancy. The handsomely-bound books on the shelves had been transferred from their well-known places in the library of Uther Hall, and the regal antlers which were fastened over the door had once graced the dining-room. Thousands would have envied Lord De Vayne’s position; but he had caught the shadow of his mother’s sadness, his relations were few, at Saint Werner’s as yet he had found none to lean upon, and he felt unhappy and alone.